Wanderers
by steelcrash
Summary: Steve Rogers discovers Asgardians aren't the only ally Earth has in the universe.


Wanderers

Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Rogers/Captain America or the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney. The Transformers belong to Hasbro/Takara.

1:30 a.m. He's been pushing the bike for several hours now, with no signs of civilization or other motorists. Just the darkness and the sound of the wind, his footsteps and the motorcycle's wheels to keep him company. He knows he probably looks a mess-his jeans are torn from the wipeout, dried blood on his hands and face and jacket, but he can feel the wounds healing and knows they'll be gone soon. Maybe taking off on his own wasn't such a good idea, but he knows he really has nothing to fear. Well, nothing to fear but the memories and the ghosts haunting him. And heaven knows Steve Rogers has 70 years of demons hiding in the recesses of his mind.

He has a cell phone, and he knows he could've called for help, but who could he call on? Fury? No. He trusted the man, but that trust had limits, and he didn't want to have to talk to him so soon. Stark? Again, no. He was dealing with his own problems. Natasha and Clint and Banner were out, also. He was a grown man and could take care of himself. But this strange new world he found himself in was confusing and amazing all at the same time, and he needed time away to try and make sense of it all.

Only a month had passed since he and his fellow Avengers had saved the planet, and at the same time, the world was a smaller place than it had been when he went to sleep. Smaller and more vulnerable despite the relative peace and technological advancements coming along while he was in the ice. Humanity wasn't alone in the universe anymore. Frightening, yet heartening because there were some allies out there. Although where, Rogers couldn't figure out. He stopped, staring up at the night sky. He knew scientists were discovering new worlds every day, but as far as he was concerned, the planet he was standing on was the only one that mattered.

Hell, had the Chitauri even been from the same universe? Thor talked about different realms, which sounded like the different universes Banner and Stark argued about. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't stupid, he just needed things framed in a way he could understand. Unfortunately, Stark took that to mean he didn't understand anything modern. Rogers understood, he just didn't like how technology had replaced face to face human interaction. Stark acted like technology could solve anything, but right now, how the hell could it help if he couldn't get a signal and call someone to get some assistance? Rogers sighed, stopping a moment, staring off into the distance. Nothing but blacktop and dark skies.

88888

Prowl's patrol shift has, so far, been uneventful. He's encountered nothing but a few hawks, jackrabbits and other assorted wildlife. Nothing overhead but a few airplanes and stray meteors and the stars. No human motorists on the road, but it isn't unusual considering this remote stretch of desert highway. He's tempted to head back to base, but he knows he should finish his patrol. Nothing pressing is waiting for him, only a few reports and possibly a disciplinary hearing or two in the morning.

Except a part of him does not want to return. He's tired of the mourning and grieving, the endless paperwork and the fighting with the human authorities. Optimus Prime has dealt with most of it, but some it has fell to Prowl to deal with. Optimus' grief with the loss of Ironhide hasn't lessened, then again, it hasn't gotten better for any of them. Some of the humans think them emotionless automatons, but they're not. Not only is Optimus mourning his closest friend, he's dealing with the death of his brother at his own hands.

Of course, the human authorities privy to this information disregard it and keep pushing for access to Cybertronian technology, which Optimus will not allow. They've seen what such access has wrought, and it will never happen again. So they agree to remain hidden, and protect the planet in their own way, not unlike the group of humans who recently saved the world.

Well, now that humanity can field its own protectors, what place is there for a few refugee Cybertronians? Optimus believed there was a place for them on Earth, but Prowl wasn't so sure. Why should they let them stay? A good question, but one he would contemplate later, slowing down as he scanned the human walking at the side of the road pushing a motorcycle.

88888

Rogers laid down the bike, walking over to the police car. Prowl quickly rezzed up a driver.

"How can I be of assistance?" Prowl asked.

"I don't suppose there are any mechanics open this time of night nearby?" Rogers asked, hopeful.

"No such luck," Prowl said. "However, I can give you a ride to the next town, if you'd like."

"Thanks officer, I'd appreciate it," Rogers said, getting in.

"Are you in need of medical assistance?" Prowl asked, running a quick scan. Interesting, this human was functioning above and beyond the known parameters for a member of his species.

"No, just a few scratches," Rogers said. "What's your name?"

"Officer Oberro," Prowl said. (Oberro was his name in Latin. That way he didn't have to lie.)

"Steve Rogers," the human said.

The name was familiar, Prowl reflected. Possibly a name one of their human handlers had mentioned, or one of the NEST soldiers. He'd have to ask. But that didn't matter.

"Mr. Rogers, would you mind telling me what you were doing so far away from civilization without a means of contacting help?" Prowl asked.

"I'm just wanting to see a little of the country," Rogers said. "I had a blowout and didn't have any phone service. I wanted to get away from everything for a while, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Prowl said nothing. Humans spent so much time talking. . .

"Must be boring out here at night, isn't it?"

"You'd be surprised," Prowl said.

"Really. I can't imagine the middle of nowhere being exciting," Rogers said. "That's why I came out here."

Prowl could identify with that desire.

"That's why I prefer this patrol route," he said. "No people. Just empty space."

"But that's just it—it's not just empty space anymore, is it? We're not alone," Rogers said. "God only knows what else is out there, waiting."

"It's possible not every species humans will encounter will be hostile," Prowl said. "There are kindred spirits in this universe."

Rogers snorted. "That's a nice sentiment," he said. "But not very comforting to anyone who lost someone in New York."

"Did you lose someone?" Prowl inquired, interested.

"I saw a lot of people die that day," Rogers said. "Slaughtered for no good reason, and I lost someone I'd like to consider a friend. He never stood a chance, but he went down fighting."

So, the human had lost someone much like they had lost Ironhide. He wasn't able to fight back, just died where he stood because of a coward's attack.

"I too have lost someone recently under similar circumstances," Prowl said. "It has not been easy to deal with the aftermath."

"Tell me about it," Rogers said. "I can't sleep at night. I keep asking myself what I could've done, but nothing changes the past. I keep failing the people I'm supposed to be protecting."

This human and Optimus had much in common, Prowl reflected. Too bad they couldn't meet. Or could they? The name was familiar, and he scanned the human's face, cross referencing the name and face with facial recognition software and historical records. It only took a few minutes to find a match—Rogers, Steven Grant, Captain, U.S. Army. Part of the classified Project: Rebirth during World War II. The man's face matched that of the person identified as Captain America during the Chitauri attack on New York City. Captain America disappeared more than 70 years before. Prowl nearly slammed on his brakes. How in the name of the unmaker was this the same man? But it was.

Prowl was a logical being—a tactician unmatched in his species, but sometimes, one couldn't count the odds. Sometimes one had to take a leap of faith. He'd learned that from Optimus, but he wasn't taking much of anything on faith anymore. Prowl slowed, pulling over. He de-rezzed his driver.

"Mr. Rogers, you might want to exit the vehicle," Prowl said.

"What the hell?" Rogers said, as the door opened and he practically jumped out as he heard a strange noise. He turned around, watching the car twist and slide into something that no longer resembled a vehicle. He blinked. He couldn't move, he was stuck to the spot, shocked by what he was seeing. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he thought?

"My name is Prowl. I am an autonomous robotic organism, or Autobot, from the planet Cybertron."

"A what?" Rogers stammered.

"I chose to reveal myself because I believe you won't reveal my secret any more than I will yours, Captain Rogers," Prowl said, bending down on one knee.

The human's eyes widened. "How. . ."

"I have abilities at my disposal you cannot begin to imagine," Prowl said. "But I am not a threat. I and those of the faction I represent have chosen to protect this planet."

"Faction? There are more of you?"

"Not many here on Earth," Prowl said. "But enough. Not all species you will encounter are evil. I just wanted to assure you of that."

"But there are others," Rogers said.

"Does that frighten you?" Prowl asked.

"Not much does any more," Rogers said. "Nice meeting you and all, but I'd like to get back to civilization."

Prowl transformed, opening a door for the human. He got in, and they traveled in silence until Prowl pulled in at a truck stop.

"This facility has a 24-hour towing service, so they will be able to pick up your vehicle," Prowl said. "I already notified them of its location."

"Thanks," Rogers muttered.

"You're welcome," Prowl said.

"If you ever need to contact me, I can be reached through Capt. William Lennox," Prowl said. "I've added his information to the contact list on your communications device."

"I wish you a safe journey, Captain Rogers."

"Same to you," Rogers said.

Prowl drove off, leaving him alone. Rogers watched until the headlights faded into the distance before going inside. What the hell? More aliens, and friendlies at that? Fury was right. The world was weirder than he could ever imagine.


End file.
